


Hunt

by nanjcsy



Series: Beasts In Human Skin Hunt Here [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Human Hunting, M/M, Predator/Prey, Ramsay is his own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/nanjcsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunting from Ramsay's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunt

The rich brown earth all churned up, everywhere, sweat is dropping into it, piss from excited dogs and deep footprints of hunters.  Leaves, branches torn, thorns take blood in exchange but the predators have the smell now.  Barking and barking, its deafening, ripping through their vocal cords, high pitched keening, yelping, ready to rend flesh.  A small stream is crossed, of course it is, all the prey tries that trick, but these hounds and these men know all the games.  They always do.  Closer now, closer and closer.  Close enough to call out and taunt.  Just close enough to begin to use a bow and arrow, not to kill, no, that would be too quick.  At first it is to motivate the victim into faster action.  Then it is to wound, finally to wound enough to bring down.

The screams of the prey are full of terror, desperate panting, sobbing and begging.  It is all useless and it just makes the hunters more amused, more ruthless.  Once they are brought down, they will never stand back up again.  At least not while they are still with bones.  Their skins will hang standing forever on a wall, if they are lucky, they will also title a new dog someday.  But they will never stand back up again.  The hunters are not very particular about their prey, male or female, does not matter to them.  They try to avoid anyone that will be missed, like nobility or popular common folk.  They prefer whores when possible, but really anyone who can run is good enough for them.  Regardless, it always goes the same way.  Once brought down, the prey is raped by all.  If the prey was a good fighter or amused them in some way, then they would die before being flayed.  If they were boring or just lay passive, they were flayed alive.  Only the fighters were considered worthy enough to name a dog.

He loved these hunts, they are something he is compelled to do at least once a month.  Ramsay loves everything about it, the terror, the life leaving the eyes slowly.  The sounds, smells, the excitement of the most basic savagery was like a powerful aphrodisiac. Some of Ramsay's best sexual moments have happened as his victims died under him.  Men that are loyal to him, special ones that only answer to him, they hunt with him sometimes.  He enjoys sharing his victims usually, though on occasion he will go alone.  It is not often, but sometimes, Ramsay just wants a little extra time with his victim.  Sometimes he will hunt alone, catch his prey and force them to act like an animal.  Sometimes they resist and then he will simply continue with his original rape and skinning routine instead.  Other times they will be desperate to live, enough to debase themselves in any way.  Those ones he has such fun with, even more then the prisoners in the dungeon.

Making them crawl, make them pleasure him, train them to act like a little animal.  Play little games with them that allow him to dismember them slowly.  Regardless of how well they amuse, Ramsay always kills them in the end.  None of them are what he really wants and this frustrates him greatly.  It makes their deaths longer and more painful too.  Ramsay recalls some of his favorites and smiles as he follows some footprints in the mud.  Today is one of his alone hunts, just the dogs are with him.  His bow and arrow are secured, ready to be used and Ramsay's dogs are searching, easily catching the scent.  However, he walks, enjoying the lovely weather, unusually warm for this close to winter.  The dogs run ahead of him, barking, on the trail to their prey.  Ramsay does not run after them, but moves briskly now, eyes scanning ahead.

Commotion as the dogs have found their prey, high pitched yelping and whined barking.  Ramsay walks over to see jumping, squirming dogs, gnashing sharp teeth.  They were taking turns jumping on the captive, licking and nosing at him.  Smirking, looking down at the fragile pet he has created out of an enemy.  The little creature was trying to curl up inside a rotted log pile.  Sighing, Ramsay reached down and helped the slave out of the pile.  "Foolish little Reek.  That was a terrible hiding place.  You were barely worth hunting at all!"  He watched with satisfaction as the boy's face went grey with panic and the terror was intoxicating.  As Ramsay began to breath heavier, feel himself getting harder, the pet was becoming aware of it.   This caused even more horror and Reek's eyes were full of begging, wordless suffering, pleading.   "I will have to punish you later on for that.  Right now, we will consider this my win.  You know what my prize is, Reek."

As sobbing and hoarse screams began, Ramsay thrust himself into the pet.  Thrusting into him in every way because Reek belong to him now.  He sunk his cock into Reek, his fingernails tore into flesh and even sharp teeth buried themselves into the pet's flesh.  The dogs howled uneasily, growling a little, they slunk away, nervously, as their owner became vicious.  The pet wailed and begged, throwing his thin arms and legs around the massive bulk of the merciless Ramsay. "Reek, who owns you?  Who do you belong to, little bitch?"  "You, Master!  I..I belong to you, to you, please!"  Ramsay chuckles then playfully begins to bite into Reek's shoulder until he cries.  The thrusts are getting harder and more ruthless, Ramsay is staring into his pet's eyes.  Burying himself deep inside the despairing creature, Ramsay growled out something.  "Even though I won't flay you to death or name a dog after you, I consider you one of my favorite hunts, Reek!" With that the hunter began to make a sound, it was rage, lust and triumph all at once. 


End file.
